Under the Dome
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Elma trusted Cross to have her back. But his penchant for yammering on about Earth was something that she didn't need.


_A/N_

 _I was playing_ Xenoblade Chronicles _when I wrote this, at the time of which I was at the Alcamoth portion of the game. Now, weeks later, I'm still in the city, though at least I've completed the tomb. Anyway, what sparked the idea was a Kotaku article on a former_ Xeno _game that utilized similar architecture to the city. That, and in_ Xenoblade Chronicles X _, we've got the dome thing still going on with New Los Angeles. So, decided to have some fun._

* * *

 **Under the Dome**

"This city used to have a roof you know. A dome, to be specific."

"So what happened?"

"Cracked on impact. Powers that be decided it would be better to remove it rather than spend the resources on repairs. After all, Mira's got a breathable atmosphere, and we're inoculated against any alien pathogens."

"Doesn't help with the rain though."

Elma didn't have a response to that. She just sat under the arch, watching Miran rain pour down on an artificial city which had been constructed on a planet that no longer existed.

"The breeze though," she said. "It feels so good."

Cross looked at her. "What?" she asked.

"The breeze feels good," he said. "Right."

"What?" the BLADE soldier reflected. "What's wrong with it?"

"Breeze?" he asked. "This isn't a breeze, it's a storm. And if you start yammering on about breezes, next thing you know you'll be going on about how you don't like sand."

"Well, actually, I don't like sand. And it doesn't help that Cliffside Beach is crawling with aliens most of the time."

"Well, technically, we're the aliens to this world. And-"

"Don't," Elma interrupted. "You want to be a member of BLADE? Don't think like that. And above all, don't talk like that."

"Yeah, I know," Cross said. "Last remnants of humanity, defenders of the city, blah blah blah. I get it."

Elma remained silent. She trusted Cross. He was good with a gun, and if push came to shove, she'd trust him to have her back in a fight. But he wasn't a soldier. He was a pod-boy, woken up to a strange new world that she'd had years to get used to. He still talked about Earth, as if it was something humanity could return to. Talked about the prone as if they could be reasoned with. Talked about things that were taboo in the society that humanity had tried to create here. A society that had the rule of "don't talk about home."

"Y'know, it's funny you mention domes," Cross said. "I had a dream while I was in that pod."

"Fascinating," Elma murmured. She played with a bailsong in her hands, wondering if it was worth it. Even with humanity facing extinction, there had to be other candidates for BLADE. Candidates that didn't make her uncomfortable by their mere presence, combat prowess aside.

"Yeah," he said. "I was in a domed city, wielding some magic sword. And…there were these angel guys."

"Angels," Elma snorted. "What, did you die or something?"

"Eh, maybe," said Cross nonchalantly. "But no, not angels. These weirdos had wings growing out of their heads instead. They lived in a domed city called Alcamoth."

"Fascinating," Elma murmured. She put the bailsong away, hoping that the rain would clear up soon. She had better things to do than listen to Cross prattle on about fantasy nonsense.

"Yeah," he said, oblivious to her disdain. "And I mean, well, makes you wonder. I mean, aliens come from on high, and angels-"

"Don't," Elma snapped, glaring at him. Watched as Cross recoiled. "Don't you _dare_ go there."

"Go where?"

"There," she spat. "Earth."

"I…I didn't mean-"

"You want to know about angels and demons?" Elma asked. She got to her feet, clutching her bailsong. Fighting the urge to actually use it. "I'll tell you about angels and demons. Angels don't exist. And demons don't come from some fantasy land of fire and brimstone, they come from above. Demons come from space, kill everything and everyone you ever cared about, and then, oh then, they keep trying to kill you."

"I was there too," Cross murmured. "I know what the aliens did."

"And then you had a sleep," Elma snarled. "And woke up, and thought, 'you know what? I think it'll be a great idea to indulge in fairy tales. Piss on the memory of everyone who really is a fantasy now.'"

Cross tried to get up but Elma shoved him back down.

"Don't," she said. "Just shut up. Earth is gone. Most of humanity's gone. And if you think daydreams are going to change any of that, then…then…"

She trailed off – she couldn't do this. She was angry, but so exhausted that she couldn't summon the energy for rage anymore. Instead, she sighed, and put a hand to her mouth. Looking up at the sky, now clearing. Watching Mira's sun shine down on them – A G-type main sequence star, not unlike Sol. A star that was dozens of light years away.

"I'll be quiet," Cross said. He got up. "But…I mean, I know I'm a newbie and all that, but…well, if we don't talk about these things…I mean, shouldn't we try to remember Earth? Remember what it was like? I mean, less than a hundred years from now there won't be a single man or woman on Mira who wasn't born on this world."

"A hundred years," Elma mused. "Right. If we last that long."

"I'm just saying-"

"Don't," she snapped. "I mean…" She sighed. "Fine. Talk. Talk…I can live with. As long as you keep being good with a gun, I can deal with your bullshit."

Cross remained silent. And she wondered what to say. If anything.

They were on an alien world, hunted by alien species.

What could talk possibly do against that?


End file.
